


Living Dead

by mernie21



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mernie21/pseuds/mernie21
Summary: Our favorite soccer players attempt to survive an apocalypse. Follow them as they navigate a world in which only the fittest survive.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This my first time posting on this site, and I've only gotten into watching women's soccer pretty recently, so I apologize for any inaccuracies. That said, the current state of the world has gotten me into an apocalypse mood, so I thought why not post this!

“It’s getting dark,” Megan said. “We should probably stop.” The lack of conviction in her voice revealed her reluctance, however, as she popped the ball over her head and sent it directly in front of Tobin.

“Alright, five more minutes, and then we’ll make our rounds,” Tobin conceded. She received the pass, transferring it from her knee to her foot and then back to her knee before passing it off to Christen. It all felt so natural—juggling with her friends, the weight of the ball on her foot—like it was meant to be. It felt like it had been just yesterday when this—playing soccer—would have been her only care in the world.

“It looks like we might get some rain,” Christen pursed her lips. “We should get going.” She caught the ball, ignoring Tobin’s pout, and set it on the grass.

“Five minutes won’t hurt!” Tobin protested despite both of them knowing full well that Christen would be getting her way. She flashed the brunette her biggest smile. “Please?”

As if on cue, a clap of thunder sounded, so loud that it reverberated through the quad. Tobin’s smile disappeared as she muttered a few colorful words.

“Okay, let’s go.”

* * *

Within minutes, the three of them were suited up and armed, hurrying outside in an attempt to finish scouring the perimeter of the property before the rain inevitably came pouring down. Megan began moving along the left, so Christen and Tobin started working in the opposite direction.

Tobin scanned the roads as Christen sprayed the repellent along the length of the metal fence. The fence itself was neither tall nor strong enough to prevent any of the infected from entering their property, but the repellent would cling to it for longer, giving the girls roughly thirty hours before they had to reapply it. They chose to apply it once every night, however, so that there would only be twenty-four hours between each recoating, as none of them were willing to take any chances.

They had gotten lucky, really. Months ago, when the outbreak had been at its infancy, their entire team had been on a bus in California, travelling to a stadium for a friendly. There had been talk of a particularly nasty flu, murmurs that more were coming down with the seasonal illness than usual, but clearly, no one had been taking it seriously. People had carried on with their daily activities; students attended school, employees went to work, and the U.S. National Women’s Soccer Team played soccer. To be frank, Tobin would have been lying if she said that they hadn’t had the slightest feeling of invincibility. They were far and away the best team in the world, and many of them were playing the best soccer of their careers. They were untouchable, really.

Then the discovery had come. A research laboratory on the East Coast came to the startling realization that the Virus, as it was now simply called, given there was no other virus that could possibly be more relevant, was not an ordinary flu. It was far more contagious, infinitely more devastating, and perhaps worst of all, it was unknown as to when it would die out.

_Symptoms include loss of all cognitive function before complete decomposition of the brain. Estimated 95% mortality rate. Able to spread through air, bodily fluids, respiratory droplets, and physical contact._

Those had been the headlines at the time. Within hours of the announcement, it was determined that roughly half of those with the flu had likely been misdiagnosed, and after those people, panicked and nervous, rushed to get tested—which luckily, a fairly simple test had been developed—there were already hundreds of confirmed cases in each state by the afternoon. A national state of emergency was declared and emergency personnel were quickly mobilized.

Their bus had been stopped coming off of the freeway. Parties over twenty had to be tested, as per government orders. Everyone had been in shock, unable to protest or even question what was happening, before each of them was swabbed and told to wait on the bus for half an hour. Tobin remembered sitting next to Christen, gripping her hand the entire time, trying to convey through the gesture what she couldn’t in words. Kelley had tried to make a joke about how she had always wanted to go viral but not in this way, and though everyone appreciated the sentiment, the joke fell flat and soon, the entire team had resorted to sitting in silence for the remaining time.

Then, without warning or preamble, the testers had returned and begun calling out the names of people who would be ushered into quarantine. People who hadn’t even begun to show symptoms yet but carried the deadly disease. _Carli Lloyd. Crystal Dunn. Lindsey Horan. Emily Sonnett. Rose Lavelle. Every single coach. The bus driver._ Each name felt like a bullet to the chest. With each person called, Tobin’s heart sank lower and lower until her entire body felt empty. She kept waiting for her own name or Christen’s to be called, but by some miracle, they never were.

The entire ordeal was a blur. The majority of the team was forced onto a different bus, with only Megan, Kelley, Julie, Christen, and Tobin remaining. Supplies were shoved into their hands, food was left on their bus, and they were told to drive somewhere distant, somewhere secluded—or as close to secluded as possible in central California.

They were not to worry about the bus; if they were to catch the Virus from being on the bus, they would have caught it within the first three hours already. In fact, by some stroke of luck, Tobin, Christen, and Megan were all immune. The others would have to worry about contracting the Virus in the future, but as far as they knew, the bus was safe.

And so Julie, the only one who hadn’t dissolved into a hyperventilating mess, had taken the wheel and driven them out of the city and off to the east. To this day, no one, including Julie herself, was sure exactly what plan she had had in mind or how she had maneuvered them into a relatively sparsely populated area, but between Google Maps and what could only be described as pure luck, they had ended up arriving at what they presumed to be a family vacation cabin. It was small, modest, and—judging by the layers of dust that coated every piece of furniture—hadn’t been used in months. In other words, it was absolutely perfect.

They had gotten so, _so_ lucky.

 _So lucky,_ Tobin repeated in her mind as she gazed over at Christen, who was diligently spraying the last section of the fence. Then, remembering she was supposed to be checking the woods beyond the fence, Tobin scanned the area, searching for any movement or light.

The most frightening thing about the entire pandemic was not the fear of contracting the Virus, though that might be partially due to the fact that Tobin, along with roughly a quarter of the population, was immune to the disease.

No, the most terrifying part was the lack of any sense of order, the lack of any rules, governing or moral alike, allowing violence and destruction to run rampant without consequence.

Tobin hated it, but she knew what she and the girls had to do to survive. She, Christen, and Megan had raided a warehouse soon after realizing the supplies they’d been given would only last them a couple of weeks at most. They would have ransacked the gas station a few miles down the road as well if it hadn’t been stripped of all its items already. On their way back, the three of them had broken into an evacuated house, taking all that they could, including a red, diesel-powered pickup truck that meant that they would no longer have to maneuver their cumbersome bus every time they ventured out for food and supplies. And that had been just their first week into the epidemic. Tobin would like to believe that they still remained decent people, however. There were others out there—awful, merciless people—who killed anyone who so much as encroached on their property, whether he or she posed a threat to them or not. There were people who lived off the land, ravaging and pillaging any property they came across, disposing of the inhabitants like they were no more than insects.

“We beat the rain,” Christen declared, snapping Tobin out of her thoughts. Her lips turned upwards at the small victory.

“Let’s get inside,” Tobin couldn’t help but grin back as she ushered her towards the door. Once they were inside, they shrugged off their gear and sank onto the couch in unison. Seconds later, the loud patter of rain on the windows could be heard, its tempo increasing rapidly as Megan burst through the door.

“Stupid rain,” she huffed, shedding her gear and swiping hair out of her eyes, where the rain had matted it against her face. “How did you guys beat it?”

“We’re not washed up and old, I guess,” Tobin said cheekily. Megan rolled her eyes.

“You were just faster because you and your girlfriend decided to leave me to do the left fence alone,” she retorted. Both Tobin and Christen groaned, letting out mutters of protest.

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

“Whatever,” Megan brushed them off. “Anyway, we’ve got to go out tomorrow. We have food, but not much.”

“Let’s leave at ten, then?” Christen proposed. “That way we can get in and out and be back pretty early in the afternoon. Plus, we’ll have time if we get held up somewhere.” Tobin held back a smile at Christen’s need to set a plan, even though they all knew that between herself and Megan, they would be more likely than not to stray from the schedule.

“Sounds good,” Tobin shrugged, and Megan nodded.

“Let’s just relax for now,” the older woman sighed, to which the other two readily agreed. “You never know when it’ll be our last chance to do so.”

* * *

“Drinks! Drinks! Who wants drinks!”

A grating voice that could only belong to Kelley filled the living room, effectively stirring all three of the girls from where they had fallen asleep on the couch. Megan was draped over the side, head tucked into the corner, while Tobin and Christen were engulfed in a blanket and sprawled almost on top of each other.

“We don’t have drinks,” Christen murmured, burying her head back under the blanket. Tobin’s arm was wrapped around her, and she wouldn’t be averse to staying in this position forever.

“Yes we do! I’m actually great at making drinks. Remember the New Year’s Party?”

“I remember throwing up, if that’s what you mean.” Christen shuddered at the memory.

“That’s not fair. It was probably something you ate.” Kelley rolled her eyes.

“I don’t want your drinks.”

“Yes you do!” A surge of cold air surrounded Christen as she felt the blanket being ripped away. She shivered, weakly trying to snatch it back, but Kelley only laughed at her blind movements. “Get up, Presi. You know you want it.”

“You know, you should really stop waking them up at eleven o’clock at night,” Julie announced her presence. Murmurs of agreement came from Megan, Tobin, and Christen. “They’re probably going to be up for a while now.” She flopped onto the couch herself, narrowly missing Christen’s head and letting out a laugh when the girl flinched. She patted her hair. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, but they get to leave the house,” Kelley complained. “They get to go into the city and carry guns and fight bad guys and do what I’ve always wanted to do during apocalypses. Us two, we’ve barely even left this cabin ever since we got here. It’s been months and I’m just so bored.”

“You’re in charge of our one working computer,” Julie pointed out. “All I’ve been doing is cooking and cleaning. If you even count opening up some canned food as cooking. I feel like a housewife from the 1950s.”  
“That’s not true,” Tobin finally spoke up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes. “You’re basically Doctor Julie. We’d be screwed without you.”

It was true. Julie had been the one to figure out how to use the medical supplies they had, patching them up when they had come back bruised and battered. Christen had always felt like it was the perfect role for Julie, just like her role on the field; she truly kept the team together, and she was indispensable.

“And you, Kelley,” Christen added. “Every squad needs its tech wizard.”

“Putting my Stanford degree to good use,” Kelley said, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m no comp sci major but I’m glad I learned something in my classes.”

Sometimes, Christen forgot that Kelley had majored in Science, Technology, and Society in college, making her one of the few STEM majors on their team. While her major wasn’t known for being the most technology-oriented, clearly, some useful knowledge had stuck, and for that, Christen was grateful. The girl had claimed responsibility over the sole computer in the cabin right from the start. Power had long since collapsed, and therefore the internet had as well, but Kelley managed to hook it up to a generator and figured out a way to track the locations of Megan, Tobin, and Christen when they went out, as they had obtained tracking devices that could be linked to a computer from one of their trips. That, paired with a couple of maps of the surrounding area and a few walkie-talkie earpieces, allowed Kelley to direct them to exactly where they needed to go.

“Anyway, here you go,” Kelley said, placing a cup of something translucent into Christen’s hand. Christen glanced suspiciously at the light yellow liquid as Kelley handed out the rest of the cups.

“Kelley, this looks a lot like—”

“It’s just Sprite,” Kelley declared. “I found it in our cabinet today. With a little bit of a secret ingredient.” She raised the cup to her lips and tilted her head back, downing the entire cup. “See? It’s good!”

Reluctantly, Christen lifted her cup and took a tentative sip. She could definitely taste the crisp flavor of the Sprite, but the drink had an underlying soft, buttery taste to it as well. It was alright, to be honest, so Christen swallowed what was left in her cup before turning to Kelley.

“So what exactly was in this?” she asked, unsure of whether or not she truly wanted to know the answer.

“Oh, it was just the leftover juice from the canned corn we had today,” Kelley beamed. “See, I knew it would taste good with the Sprite.” Christen saw Tobin blanch, immediately setting her cup down, and giggled.

“Kelley, what the hell,” Tobin complained. “Why would you ruin a perfectly good Sprite?”

“It’s good! You were drinking it a second ago!”

“That was before I realized there was corn juice in here!”

“I think it’s actually decent,” Julie shrugged, ignoring Tobin’s glare. “Honestly. It’s better than the metallic water we’ve been drinking.” Kelley beamed at her.

“Don’t encourage her,” Tobin snapped.

“Can I have yours then?” Kelley snatched up Tobin’s cup without waiting for an answer, gulping down the liquid like a parched animal.

“You can have mine too,” Megan piped up, not having moved from her position on the couch. Kelley sighed loudly as she took the cup from her.

“Christen and Julie are my only true friends,” she said woefully, slinging an arm around both of them.

“Christen’s mine,” Tobin insisted, pulling her back. Kelley rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. I’m going to bed. See you guys tomorrow.”

“See you,” Christen grinned, curling back up under her blanket. It was during times like these that she managed to push the outside world to the back of her mind, bickering with her friends like nothing at all had changed. She didn't know what would have come of her without them, truly. It wasn’t long before her breathing evened out and her eyes slowly drifted closed, a temporary peace surrounding her as sleep overtook her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the few people who are reading this! I apologize if the first chapter was a bit boring; I just felt like I had to establish the whole premise and everything before delving into what I really wanted to write. Things will pick up soon, don't worry.

“That looks like it,” Megan said from behind the wheel. The three of them—Megan, Tobin, and Christen—were seated in the pickup, heading towards a warehouse that Kelley had located. Given it had been months since the outbreak, by any logic it would have been long since stripped of any useful goods, but they had reason to think otherwise. The warehouse neighbored what was once a quarantine facility, back when the now-nonexistent government had been making efforts to contain the chaos, meaning anyone who was not immune would have stayed far, far away from it. It was still likely that others had eventually raided it, but the girls had decided that it was worth a try, especially since the next closest possible target was over twice the distance from their cabin.

“It should be on your left,” Kelley said through their earpieces.

“Yup,” Megan confirmed. “This is it.”

The warehouse was a large, rectangular building that stood between several other smaller, shorter buildings. It looked like graffiti had once adorned its walls, but now all that was visible was sheets of paint curling off the sides and patches of something green growing along its edges.

The three of them soon arrived in front of the building, having parked their car slightly off the side of the road. The place was eerily silent, so quiet that every step they took sounded like a mini earthquake, shoes crunching on gravel being the only noise other than their own breathing.

Christen waited, slightly agitated, as Megan fiddled with the door. Her foot tapped anxiously against the ground on its own accord, the noise soothing her subconsciously.

“Don’t worry,” Tobin said. “We’ll just get in and get out. Easy as that.”

Christen forced her foot to be still, feeling slightly embarrassed. Tobin looked calm as always, even giving Christen a small smile of reassurance. 

“I know, I know,” Christen responded, glancing away. She was just anxious. She could handle herself.

The door suddenly creaked open as Megan gave it a shove. A musty smell emerged from the opening, making the three of them cough.

“Either this place was emptied a long time ago, or we’ve somehow hit gold,” Megan said as they stepped inside. “Probably the former, though,” she added, frowning as she took in the overturned shelves and the absence of any intact boxes as far as they could see.

The room was dark, the lack of windows resulting in light only being let in through the door. Christen could only make out a few rows of shelves before they began to blend in with the shadows surrounding them.

“We can check if they’ve missed anything,” Christen suggested, though her hopes weren’t high. “Since we’ve already driven here and all.”

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” Megan shrugged, sighing.

Christen soon found herself striding along the back of the warehouse, checking for any items that could possibly be of any use to them. She sidestepped a fallen cart with rust covering its entire length and peered half-heartedly behind it. A lone flashlight caught her eye, which she picked up from the ground, clicking it on to see if it still worked. A small beam of light appeared, illuminating a pile of opened boxes, a lump of something black, and a pair of green eyes staring back at her.

Christen didn’t have time to react before a palm wrapped around her throat. Another hand held back her arms, wrestling her to the ground. Christen’s heart pounded as she struggled for breath, jerking away from her assaulter, but the person’s grip remained firm, tightening as she struggled.

“Help!” she tried to scream, but she only managed to emit a small squeak, her voice sounding scratchy and pathetic even to her own ears. She tried to twist her wrists away, wrenching them downwards, but the hand on her throat tightened and she immediately stopped, seeing spots appear in her vision.

“Please,” she croaked, gasping for breath. “We didn’t mean any harm. We thought this place was abandoned.”

“How do we know you don’t have weapons?” a deep, gravelly voice countered.

“I-I don’t—I promise,” she managed out, hoping the man couldn’t feel the shape of the revolver tucked snugly into the waistband of her jeans. She was beginning to feel faint, the lack of oxygen making her head spin. Things began to feel muffled, and something akin to panic gradually rose in her chest with every second longer she couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t believe that for a second. And even if you didn’t, we can’t risk that. You know where we live now.”

At that moment, Christen’s leg shot straight into his groin, sending him sprawling across the floor. He cursed loudly, clutching his balls. Suddenly, Christen could breathe again, lungs greedily capturing all the air they could after being deprived for what felt like hours.

“Son of a bitch,” the man growled. Still hunched over in pain, he slammed Christen into the wall. Pain erupted as her body connected with the steel, stars exploding across her vision. She groaned, ducking just in time as the man swung a fist at her face. While his momentum carried him forward, Christen aimed for his knees, sweeping his legs from underneath him with a swing of her leg. He landed on the ground with a groan, the wind knocked temporarily out of him. She fumbled for her revolver, getting a hand beneath her waistband before her arm was jerked back.

“Don’t even think about it,” the man snarled. He swung his arm, and Christen twisted away blindly, feeling something sharp graze the edge of her elbow as she yanked herself out of his grasp. He tried to stab her again, but this time, Christen caught his wrist, his momentum causing both of them to tumble over the nearby cart and onto the ground, producing a clanging noise that echoed throughout the entire room. As they fell, Christen slammed the butt of her gun into his head, the force of which knocked him back several feet. She trained her gun on him, waiting a few seconds to see if he would rise, before it was clear that he had been knocked unconscious.

Stumbling to her feet, Christen turned and sprinted for the door. Suddenly, a body slammed into her, causing her to nearly scream before realizing that it was Tobin, with Megan right beside her.

“What happened?” Tobin hissed as they ran. “We heard you guys fighting, but we were on the other side and we couldn’t find you.”

“There’s people who live here,” Christen breathed. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Suddenly, a shot rang out, hitting the wall behind them. Christen’s heartbeat quickened as she and the others dropped down instinctively, throwing themselves behind a row of shelves.

“Shit!” she heard Tobin scream, to which Christen snapped her head back in her direction. Tobin was writhing violently in the grasps of a tall, burly man and a short, stout woman. Tobin fired, twice, and the man dropped to the floor, but the woman remained standing and held onto Tobin’s wrist, angling Tobin’s gun towards the ground and away from herself.

On her other side, Megan fired in rapid succession at the three men creeping around the corner, stopping only when each of them lay motionless on the floor. Upon seeing them taken care of, Christen turned back to where Tobin and her assaulter were locked in a struggle, neither of them relenting.

“How dare you break in and kill my family like this.”

A chill went through Christen’s spine at the woman’s words. Her voice was low, quiet, and absolutely seething. Still holding onto Tobin’s wrist in a vice grip, she drew out a gun of her own and aimed it directly at Tobin’s head.

Then, suddenly, Tobin swiped at her hand, and a bullet flew wildly at the ceiling. The two of them tumbled to the ground, limbs tangled, grabbing furiously at each other’s hands.

Christen shook herself from where she had frozen in place, raising her gun purposefully in front of her. She inched closer, training her gun on the woman’s head, and laid her finger on the trigger.

As if sensing her approach, the woman slowly turned her head from Tobin to Christen, a slightly manic smile stretching across her face when her gaze landed on the gun in her hands. She glanced up, purposefully, meeting Christen’s stare. Dark green eyes bore directly into her own, daring her to act.

A ringing sound filled Christen’s ears as the shot went off. The woman stilled, a bullet buried deep in her head.

“Let’s get out of here,” Christen hissed at Tobin, pulling her off the ground and ignoring the gnawing feeling in her stomach. They scampered out of the building, stepping over bodies as they did, not once glancing back at the scene they had left behind.

Once in the pickup, Megan hit the gas, propelling them towards home at a speed perhaps a bit faster than she would normally drive. No one seemed to be chasing them, though that didn’t stop Christen from peering anxiously out of the rear windshield until the warehouse was entirely out of sight.

“How did it go?” Kelley asked once they turned their earpieces back on.

“Bad,” Christen muttered. Muted green eyes still lingered in her vision, staring back at her even as she travelled farther and farther from the warehouse. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, her back throbbed painfully from where it had connected with the steel wall. Her fingers mindlessly massaged the bruises on her throat, and she stared aimlessly at the blood trickling from her elbow.

She supposed it was fitting, the way the small line of red slid lower and lower until it gathered in a tiny pool on the seat beside her. She could have stopped it, but instead she stared uselessly until it was too late to stop it from collecting on the leather.

“Got into a bit of a struggle,” Megan bit her lip. “And no food, either.”

“None of us are hurt too bad,” Tobin added, already sensing Kelley’s worry. She shrugged off Christen’s concerned look at the blood dribbling down the side of her head, mouthing, _It looks worse than it actually is_. Her jaw clenched as her eyes took in Christen’s injuries, however, reaching over to assess her further. Her fingers traced over the marks on her neck, gently, and Christen let her, trying to memorize the feel of her fingers on her skin.

“Are you all okay?” Kelley asked, sounding concerned.

Tobin and Megan reassured her at the same time.

“A little banged up, but we’re fine.”

“We’re just a bit shaken, it’ll wear off soon.”

“Okay,” Kelley seemed to accept their answer. “Christen?”

“Oh—yeah,” she said hurriedly, realizing she hadn’t answered. “I’m fine. We’re all fine.”

“Are you sure?” Kelley asked. Christen could hear the frown in her voice.

“Yeah,” she said, letting out a small sigh. “Killing innocent people—it just doesn’t get any easier, you know?”

“I know,” Megan said quietly. “You feel like that person was someone’s father, or someone’s daughter.” She drummed her fingers on the wheel as if the rhythm would distract her from the current world.

“It was either us or them,” Tobin said, though she too was biting the inside of her cheek, clenching and unclenching her jaw. “They would have killed us if we hadn’t killed them first.”

“I guess.” Christen was far from convinced, but she tried to force the image of the woman staring back at her out of her mind. It would have been either her or Tobin, after all, and between the two of them, her loyalties lay with Tobin.

“Don’t blame yourselves, alright? You did what you had to do,” Kelley said.

_Easy for you to say,_ Christen thought bitterly, allowing herself a brief moment of resentment before shaking her head at herself. Kelley was just trying to make them feel better. It wasn’t her fault that even months into the apocalypse, Christen still couldn't come to grips with what survival entailed.

“Yeah, I know,” she responded before pausing for a second. “Um. Is this the way we came from? I remember turning the other way on the way here.”

“Shoot,” Kelley muttered. “You’re right. Megan, I need you to turn back and then turn left, not right. Nice catch, Christen.”

“Maybe I should take over your job,” she said sarcastically, though a small, selfish part of her was serious.

“Nice try,” Kelley said. Christen could practically hear her smirking through the earpiece. “But I’m keeping my job.”

“I know,” Christen sighed. _I know._


End file.
